"I don't like that lady." Cat sits on the nearest bed and begins to take off her shoes. "Talk about the crabbiest fucking person on the planet."

"Trust me," replies Cicero, "Cicero is not crazy about the Pretender, either. She is not in charge of the contracts – only the Night Mother dictates our next kill. But without a Listener, there is no hope of overruling the Pretender's whims!" He closes his copper eyes and sighs, pulling his cap off his head. "But the Wanderer must hold her tongue for now, or else the Pretender may cut it out." Cicero sits beside Cat on the bed, reaching his hand to her chin. His voice softens. "I did not enjoy the way she spoke to you." His volume grows. "If Cicero could gut her organs and hang them in our room like decorations – he would!"

Cat laughs, playfully leaning against him. Delighted, he wraps his arms around her, drawing her closer, nearly onto his lap.

"So," says Cat, "If there's no Listener and there's no Night Mother..."

"Ahh," Cicero says, "Mother is inside of you, remember?"

Cat sighs. "I hate to break this to you but I'm pretty sure I pooped that thing out a while ago."

Nodding, Cicero shrugs. "I'm sure some of it broke down and absorbed deep, deep inside." He grins at Cat. "My hope at this point is that the Night Mother's corpse is not needed for her to still speak to the Listener. And Cicero's other hope... well..." he trails off.

"Well?" Cat nudges Cicero.

"I – I want to be Listener," he admits, sheepishly.

"Well, that makes sense, given what you've explained to me." Grinning, she adds, "Oh well, man. Let's hope ol' Ass Turd doesn't become Listener. Am I right?"

Cicero throws his head back and cackles. "Wanderer!" he exclaims. Nearly crying with laughter, the jester grabs Cat by her shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

She smirks. "Jaded humor is my best asset, you know." Again, she doesn't think her quip is all that funny, but it is hilarious that Cicero is so amused. Maybe he's a little too amused. Cat watches him fall backward onto the bed, cradling his stomach, trying to stifle the kind of giggles one would hear at a preteen sleepover.

Nazir angles his head in through the bedroom doorway. "Will you two shut up?" he barks. His face is wrenched with annoyance.

Cicero sits up, quieting his manic episode to the best of his ability. It's so difficult for him that he tightly clasps both hands over his own mouth.

Crossing her arms, Cat immediately shifts her gaze downward, pressing her lips together as hard as she can. Shaking with suppressed laughter, she fails to hold it in and spits on the floor.

Cicero presses his hands harder against his face, trying to muffle an explosion of mouth sounds that may very well cause Nazir to have an aneurysm.

"You know, some people need to get some damn sleep around here!" yells Nazir. Shaking his head, he turns away from the doorway, muttering curses under his breath as he continues down the hall.

"Whatever you say dad," Cat laughs, giving a sarcastic salute.

Cicero rolls backward again, laughing even harder, even louder. Somewhere down the hall, Nazir may very well be bleeding from his eye sockets. Cicero grips Cat's shoulder, pulling her backward along with him. She teeters down beside him on the bed.

"Ok – ok – ok..." Cicero pants. "WE HAVE TO STOP!" He takes a deep breath, calming himself. For a moment, he refuses to look at Cat right away for fear she will do or say something to cause more laughing. "Just–" he gasps, playfully covering her face with his hand, "–just stop."

"I'm stopping, I'm stopping," she laughs. "I swear to god! I will stop!"

"Ok." Cicero pauses. "Wait – no. By Sithis, I don't believe you." His hand is still covering her face.

"I swear. I'm done. I'm stopping." Cat continues to chuckle.

"Cicero wants to believe you," he nods, "but I can't even look at you."

Cat grabs his hand, moving it away. "Look, look. I'm cool. I swear. Cool as a cucumber."

Cicero takes a deep breath through his nose. "...Ok," he agrees with an exhale.

The two of them lie quietly on their sides, face to face, staring at one another. Cat's hand is still holding Cicero's hand. Her fingers slip between his and she tightens her grip. As if in response, he tightens his. Cat isn't exactly sure why, but she cranes her face closer to Cicero's and plants a brief, albeit intense, kiss on his mouth. Stunned, he blinks, lifting his other hand to his lips.

"Sorry," she says, looking away and feeling awkward.

Cicero smiles, tugging Cat closer. He wraps his arms around her as she wriggles herself against his body. Hugging her tightly, he whispers, "Don't be sorry." He returns her affection with a slower, softer kiss that seems to last for as long as they lie there.

After some time, the two of them drift off to sleep before much else could be said or done.